


Elliott Witt has a hard day.

by agentbranski



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, enjoy, this was a warm up exercise that i jus sorta ran w, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentbranski/pseuds/agentbranski
Summary: It's a rough one.
Relationships: Bloodhound & Mirage | Elliott Witt, implied miragehound - Relationship, like heavily implied - Relationship
Kudos: 14





	Elliott Witt has a hard day.

Your name is Elliott Witt. You are going to have a hard day.

You knew the day was going to be a long one before you had even opened your eyes. You lied there in the silence before sunrise, a terrible feeling swirling in your gut keeping you strapped to your bed. It wasn’t the night-after-bad-takeout type terrible either. You knew the difference. You also knew you forgot to eat dinner the night before. Again. You don’t know where your head has been.

Your alarm goes off and you sigh, allowing the tone to drag on and repeat once before you finally pull yourself to your feet. It’s game day and you don’t have rent ready. After your several consecutive losses, you barely have enough cash to fill the tank in your transport. It’s all or nothing today, like most days. You shower, you get dressed, you make yourself eat, and you go to work.

When you show up to the dropship you aren’t warmly received by anyone. It’s hard to come up with a single face who isn’t entirely disappointed in you. A couple bad days at your old job meant a few broken bottles; A couple bad days in a bloodsport meant broken bones. You squeeze your left hand out of reflex, remembering the pain from the first of your many bad days. You’re still unable to clench your fist as tightly as before, but the numbness in your fingers faded a few weeks ago, so you figure you’ll be fine. You could handle your pain, it was other’s that you had trouble with.

You see Renee across the room and suddenly you’re taking steps two at a time. You hope her company will clear the clouds from your head, but she isn’t interested. The dark bruising under her eye had gone down since the last time you saw her, but not completely. A small violet reminder of your most recent failure. Your conversation is short, tense. She takes the first excuse to leave and you don’t blame her. You’re a bad omen among legends. You spend the rest of the trip in the locker room fixing your hair. You can never get it to look right.

The alarm goes off and you sigh, listening to the droning of the siren and the shuffling of feet towards the loading dock. You join them. You circle around the platform until you’ve found where you belong. Octavio is on your team (good), but so is Renee (bad). You avoid eye contact with either of them. You feel a hand hard on your back, Octavio makes a joke about you breaking a leg. You forget to laugh. The dropship around you soon becomes the sky and you feel the hand on you again. This time Octavio shoves you forward and you let him. Your team takes to the air and into the arena. The wind messes up your hair. You couldn’t get it to look right anyways.

When you’re on the ground you’re hoping things turn around for you. You find two pistols in the first building you enter, and another team in the second. It’s over before you can back out the door.

When you get to open your eyes again, Octavio’s are above yours. The glass in his goggles are completely shattered, giving you too clear a view of his intense stare. You try to pretend he’s worried for you. He fills you in instead. You were both knocked out early, leaving Renee on her own, but she doesn’t give you time to feel guilty before she tags your banners back in. You’re both in the game before the blood on your clothes gets a chance to dry. 

The second your feet hit the ground, Renee is pushing a gun into your arms. It’s heavy. You accept it. You promise you won't mess up again. You do.

A late-game revive always got a crowd, and this one wasn’t any different. You put up a good fight for the first team; You all manage to hold your own despite hardly having enough gear to go around. You thought you might have had a chance to turn things until the second team arrived, adding to the already-imploding chaos. You wanted to use it as a chance to run. You all try. A third squad keeps you pinned. 

Their traps close you in like cattle. You get pushed alone into a corner you can’t climb out of. You expect gunfire to end things but they choose something worse; You choke on gas. It burns your nostrils on the way in and every inch of your throat on the way down. You’re lit aflame from the inside. You gasp for air but it only makes things worse. Your eyes water. Your lungs tickle. Your gun falls from your hands and you do your best to crawl from the stench. Your throat is closing. Your heart is pounding. You hope you get to wake up from this mistake. You don’t.

Instead of succumbing to the darkness, you feel a hand hard on your back. Octavio is lifting you to your feet and dragging you from the smoke. You thank the neon adrenaline in the kid’s veins as you gasp for air. You don’t get a chance to catch your breath. Octavio rushes you both out of the chaos, you notice Renee isn’t with you but you don’t ask. You consider yourself lucky you got out all.

You’re both injured badly with nothing to show for it. Octavio gives you the little he has. It gets you patched up, but you know nothing will make you new again. You don’t have faith in your chances. You try to think of friends you haven’t asked for a loan from in awhile.

Octavio tries to lift your spirits, you put your heads together and try to plan something. Anything. There are two squads and two of you. You try to pretend you’ve been against worse odds. You see a glint in the distance on top of a building. You reach for Octavio’s shoulder but the bullet is faster than you are. Your ears ring with echo of a kraber and Octavio is on the ground, unconscious. You have enough time to pull his body into cover before the second shot rings out. You shake him. You slap him. You do everything you can to rouse the kid before you have to leave him. You can hear the sound of footsteps rushing the both of you.

You run. You feel terrible, but you run. You were smart enough to take Octavio’s gun before you split. He wouldn’t have use for it in the infirmary and you’d rather not have it used against you.

There is one squad, and there is one of you. You run until your lungs burn, which isn’t long. The sting from the gas keeps you winded and gasping. You’re forced to hide in a nearby building. You rush to the second floor before letting yourself collapse. Your chest is burning with every deep breath you suck in. You allow a decoy to take watch in the window while you gather yourself. You know you were being followed. You don’t think you lost them.

You look through your pockets, ignoring your trembling hands. You have three shots to your peacekeeper and one grenade. You hope the other team will at least make it quick. You hear a door crash open and footsteps start on the stairwell. You lower yourself to the ground, hiding behind a plant and clenching your peacekeeper to your chest. You can’t take out all three, but you’re willing to go out fighting.

Bloodhound enters the room. You falter. They walk past you. You watch as they cross the room adeptly, pistol in hand. They approach your decoy. You lift your gun, waiting for them to strike. They don’t. You’re frozen.

Bloodhound stands behind ‘you’. They holster their weapon and speak to you. It’s quiet and foreign. You try to decipher it. You can’t. They take another step towards ‘you’, but they stop. They turn. They look at you.

You panic and fire. At the range they’re in they don’t stand a chance against it. They get knocked back against the wall, blood splattering on the window behind them. Your gut wrenches. You feel sick and rush to their side. You’re reaching for them when they snarl and lash out. You feel  _ ravensbite _ slice the air in front of you. You stumble backwards. Their eyes are lit aflame but they make no move towards you. You hear footsteps on the stairs and you turn in time to fire on the first person out of the stairwell. They’re knocked back but you don’t know if it will be enough this time.

You use this chance to run for the next set of stairs. Your hands are shaking as they reload the shotgun, the last shell slipping from your fingers as you try to push it into the barrel. You hear more footsteps on the stairs. You pull the grenade from your pocket, tossing it carelessly behind you as you clear the stairs two at a time. You scramble out onto the deck, slamming the door behind you and holding your back against it. You’re still clutching your gun when the grenade detonates, shaking the building to its foundation. You wait for the footsteps. You wait for the bullets to hit the door you’re pressed against. You squeeze your eyes shut. You wait to die and worse yet- lose.

You don’t.

You hear music.

The nice announcer-lady is declaring you the champion. You won.

Your name is Elliott Witt and you had a hard day.

You’re thankful you’ll get a chance to have more.

**Author's Note:**

> helloooo ! thank u sm fr reading !!!<333  
> this was a lotta fun to write and i hope u enjoyed it! if u want more of this specific elliott or wanna kno what was up w bloodhound in this, feel free 2 check out my mirhound series birds nd words! it's not done in second person like this and its Definitely not as grim. if u like cheesy fluffy romance stuff its got plenty of it! this was jst a warm up for that that i ended up liking a lot n_n  
> (ALSO if ur currently waiting on a new chapter fr that i swear im writing it rn ty fr ur patience friends ilu<33)


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